


Purr-fectly Matched

by omnenomnom



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Post-War, Cat, Cat POV, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Fred Weasley Lives, Hogwarts, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Humor, Kissing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-25
Updated: 2021-02-25
Packaged: 2021-03-16 16:47:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29703567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/omnenomnom/pseuds/omnenomnom
Summary: Crookshanks is fond of his servant. She is generous with both treats and affection while still knowledgeable of her place as his attendant. However, when she starts making that wailing noise, he decides the best solution would be to find her a mate. The question is, which male is worthy?
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Fred Weasley
Comments: 34
Kudos: 168
Collections: Fremione Fanatics Spring Scenes Flash Fest





	Purr-fectly Matched

**Author's Note:**

> A prompt from Fremione Spring Scenes Flash Fest
> 
> "Crookshanks plays matchmaker."-teh_kris_eh
> 
> Note: I am aware cats don't have dens but it was hard writing as a cat okay?

Crookshanks awoke in a sunbeam, stretching out on the soft blanket of his throne. His servant had recently cleansed it and he was dead set on soaking it with his scent again. He rolled on his back with a contented purr as he considered his options of what to do with the rest of the day. Of course there was hunting, but he could also wander the grounds. Northcat, the calico who enjoyed hunting children with her servant, was always a good conversation, if not a bit… feral. He could also head to the kitchens where the bat-servants would dote on him and offer him cream. There was also napping. Another nap was always nice.

While he was still deciding on his plans, the door to his room slammed open. Crookshanks was on his paws in a second, hissing at the intrusion. His hackles lowered when the familiar, tufted fur of his servant sailed into the room. 

“S-sorry Crooks,” his servant whimpered. He could smell salt and water on her, even as she drew her hands across her face. “It’s been a hard day.”

Crookshanks meowed in agreement. He too had a difficult day, starting with a kitten thinking he had claim to Crookshank’s window in the common room. Crooks had no other option but to bat the kitten out of the way which irritated the kitten's servant into shouting. He hated when servants shouted. Thankfully his, while prone to dramatic reactions to certain circumstances, was generally quiet, preferring those leather and leaf things to fits of high pitched squealing with other females.

“You still love me right?” she cooed, settling on the bed. He wasted no time in climbing on her chest, settling into a purr when she stroked the base of his ears. She was well-trained, always knowing the best spots to pet.

“Mrrroww,” Crooks responded loudly. He found that human communication methods were simple, based on loud noises and gestures. They seemed completely unable to hear the usual tones he and other cats communicated with. Not that the humans were smart enough to understand him.

“It’s just… Malfoy,” she spat the name and Crooks hissed. He was more than familiar with the white pelt male. The male had tried to kick him once and gotten a deep bite on his ankle for it. Ever since then, whenever they crossed paths, he tried to hit Crookshanks with one of those sparkly bits of magic the wizards preferred. 

“Off he goes, on and on about my hair and my looks and my blood. Honestly, no boy should be that concerned about bodily fluids,” she said. Crooks purred in agreement. “And I know he’s stupid and his statements are totally incorrect but every time I see someone else around us, nodding along I feel that much more of an outsider.”

Crookshanks pawed lightly at her face, letting her know that she was a perfectly adequate servant. Even in the face of his most gracious praise, water still fell from her eyes, unpleasantly wetting his fur.

“I love you too Crooks.” He wasn’t sure what this ‘love’ was but he was content to let it lie when she stroked down his back. “I just… I just...with Harry and Ron… I feel so left behind. Malfoy takes the chance to pick on me since no one else is around and I just… Oh, Crooks. I’m sorry. You don’t care about any of this.”

Crooks meowed loudly in protest. Many people found cats to be stand-offish and distant towards their servants. But that just wasn’t true. Crooks cared deeply about his servant’s happiness. She was more likely to provide him with treats and pets if she was happy.

“You’ve probably been trapped in here all day. I’ll let you roam while I just whinge in here alone.” She pointed the stick thingy at the door and opened it a crack before she buried her face back into his throne and let out a whimper. 

While Crooks could have opened the door at any point with his own magic (gifted to him by his dam, a lovely umber Kneazle) he exited anyway and trotted down the stairs. His servant was upset and if she remained so, lunch would likely be late and he had already had such an eventful day.

The female said she was lonely. That was not something he understood but had written it off as a human thing. Perhaps, he had been too hasty in that. Perhaps she had just misconstrued the signs of her first heat. 

He paused on the stairs as he considered it. He knew her to be at least three summers old and he had never seen her with a mate. (Not that he would subject himself to those awful noises he frequently heard from the older female’s rooms.) The other females she interacted with had clearly hit their heats a while ago but perhaps his servant was a late bloomer. 

Perhaps lonely is just the human word for that desire to find a mate. He toyed with the idea of letting his human mate. It _would_ take time and attention from him temporarily but if he could manage it, he may end up with a second, equally slavent servant. And, if he was _very_ lucky, they may have kits, leading to a long line of proven servants with good breeding. An interesting prospect to be sure. He would have to look at the sires available.

Crooks trotted into the social room, blinking in greeting at the other cats before focusing on his task.

“I don’t know Seamus,” a nearby male said. Crooks was familiar with him, having spent a few afternoons lounging on one of his spare thrones in the room. The one the pale furred female rested on. “I feel like you’re already dangerous enough with fire without bringing gunpowder into it.”

Crooks rejected that option and moved on, not wanting to have his servant compete. She was perfect, and anything other than full devotion to her (and himself) was an insult. Closer to the door he encountered the red-furred female queen that spent so much time with his servant, along with the familiar male with cat-like forest eyes.

“Harry-” she made that high pitched tittering sound he hated. 

“Shhhh, Gin. No one is watching,” Crooks yowled in warning, as he was indeed watching. The male blinked at him before smiling. “Hey Crooks. I’ll tell Hermione to give you a treat later, mate. We’re a bit busy here.”

“Harry,” the queen inhaled air quickly and whimpered lowly as something under their pelts shifted. Crooks snarled in disgust. That one was already in heat _and_ the male was taken. Pity, he had smelled the strongest of magic.

Crooks spun, flicking his tail high in the air and ignoring the other sounds behind him. He understood the instinct to claim a mate but even dogs had the decency to try to find some sort of cover to prevent interruption. 

Leaving the social room he scampered over to the door, flicking his tail to cause it to open. He padded into the hallway, regarding the males as he walked. 

That one was too thin, he would be bony to sit on. That one was from the dirt-dog den, he refused it on principal. That one screamed too much. 

“Well hello there, Cobblestone.”

Crookshanks, so lost in his objective, was wholly unprepared as he was scooped up by some rather heavy hands. He squirmed as they held him too tightly and in the wrong places, putting stress on his back. 

“Where’s you mummy?” He hissed as the male brought Crooks up to his face. _This_ male again. Crooks growled lowly at the confident snarl pulling at the boy’s lips. He _hated_ this male. He held him all wrong and tended to treat Crookshanks more like an interesting object rather than the King he was.

“What’da ya got there, Cormac?”

“Granger’s cat, Cobblestone,” the male said, still holding him by his scruff and stomach. He was currently out of reach but Crooks knew if he lured the human into a false sense of security that he could wait until the human dropped his guard and take a swipe. His servant probably wouldn’t be that bothered. On the poorly throughout occasion where she had considered him, the male had pawed her clumsily as well.

“He doesn’t seem to like you much.”

Crooks growled in agreement.

“Who gives a rat’s arse if the cat likes me? What matters is that Granger has been dodging me since school started again and this little fur-mat will provide the perfect excuse to get her to agree to a date with me. Isn’t that right you fat, flea bitten-”

“Cormac… maybe you should-”

“Stupid, ugly-OW!” Crooks saw his chance as the male leaned too close to his face. His claws sliced through the males cheeks before the hands restraining him quickly released Crooks, shooting to staunch the blood.

“That mangy little- get back here!” 

But Crooks was already gone, running off down the hall. He ducked behind a suit of armor as the bad male stormed past him. This was getting oddly dangerous, but he would stop at nothing to make his servant happy. Even if it meant missing lunch.

————————-

Well, missing lunch was a bit of a misnomer. What he meant was that he would be stopping by the food room for a saucer of milk to tide him over until dinner. The food room was one of Crook’s favorite places in the stone den, filled with warm spots, food and the bat servants who would always give him a pat here and there.

Thus he was shocked by the appearance of one of humans from the Snake Den in his spot. The males from there were indeed strong but best avoided due to their dangerous temperament. According to the cats who lived in the below place, some of the humans were amendable but only to the cats of their pride. The utter lack of decorum was off putting.

Crooks puffed up in indignation seeing the dark skinned male still sitting in the window sill. Windows were for _cats_ not humans. Certainly he knew that. 

Just to remind him of his place, Crooks meowed loudly. The boy stopped looking out of the window and his dark eyes landed on Crookshanks. They widened in surprise before he looked around the room swiftly. After a moment they turned back to Crooks, blinking slowly as they softened.

“Well hello, Sir. Aren’t you a pretty boy?” the male crooned. The response shocked Crooks and he took a cautious step forward, his eyes narrowed.

“So smart too. Your owner takes such good care of you, don’t they?” The boy held out his hand. Crooks regarded it cautiously. His paw pads were long and thin, ideal for scratches. He took a sniff, smelling a female on his skin. Ah, so this one was already claimed. Not ideal, but for the right male Crooks _supposed_ he could make an exception. After all, a male worthy of him and his servant would likely be very skillful and in high demand. (It had absolutely nothing to do with the failure Crookshanks had experienced thus far.)

“Merowwww,” Crooks called sitting on his haunches and pawing at the boy’s legs. The boy folded them up underneath each other making a rather perfect lap for sitting. Crooks purred at the find and jumped up. He was pleased; an already trained servant would be even better for breeding.

“Want some pets?” the boy asked in a soft tone. Crooks haughtily waved his tail and settled on the warmth of the boy’s legs. In spite of the sharpness of his facial bones, his hands were soft. His legs were hard with muscle but that was common with males and he was at least very warm. Yes this could work well.

“Merrow!” Crooks yowled, purring as the male zeroed in to pet behind his ears.

“What’s your name?” the boy hummed, petting him gently.

Crooks sat up bushing his chest toward the boy's hand. He was pleased when the boy’s hand trailed across his medal, given to him for his obvious excellence when his servant chose to serve him. Thankfully, the boy was smart, pulling the medal around to read it clearly.

“Crookshanks huh? What a unique name for such a handsome cat.” 

Crooks purred. Yes. This male was _perfect._ Now he just needed to get him back to the den of big cat and-

“Blaise? Are you still here?” 

Suddenly, that warm, soft male was gone and in his place was something that reminded Crookshanks as a far too proud tom-cat prowling the streets.

“Yeah, one second Betty,” The snake male cajoled Crookshanks off his lap in spite of his very vocal protest otherwise. “Sorry mate… I’ve got a different kind of petting on the menu today.”

Crooks yowled but followed the boy stealthily out of the kitchen. The male moved like a hunter, not the worst trait in a servant. Besides, Crooks already knew he had a female, it would be easy to show him the better option of-

Crookshanks hissed when he rounded the corner. There were indeed not one, but _two_ females glaring at each other before focusing on the male. Neither of them were the female he had smelled earlier.

“Mandy says she was meeting with you tonight but I told her you were seeing me.”

“And I said that a snogging in a broom closet is not even close to official.”

“And I said that it was to anyone who’s not a tart like you Betty.”

Crooks backed away, suddenly getting the feeling that the claws were about to come out. Surprisingly, the male simply chuckled before smoothly maneuvering his way in between the hissing females. The male slung an arm around each of their shoulders. 

“Ladies, Ladies. I’m sure we can come to _some_ sort of agreement. Why don’t we take a walk?” 

The females squealed that bird-like sound as he led them away. The male took a moment to turn back and waved goodbye before turning the corner.

While Crookshanks was impressed with how smoothly the situation was handled, the boy reminded him a bit too much of himself as a young excitable male. No no, not a good choice for mating. Perhaps another… he’d have to keep looking.

——————

His next search led him to the plant dens. His servant would occasionally return to the room smelling of earth and green things so he could only assume she enjoyed spending time here. Perhaps he would find a male who shared her fascination (not that he understood it).

While Crooks had no issue finding males (indeed a whole pack of them were sitting with others of their age) none seemed particularly inviting and a large chunk of them seemed too young for mating. He sighed heavily before padding to the back to say hello to Growing Thing, the residential plant den cat. The female was known for her overarching hatred of all things human. She only tolerated the old servant setting out the barest of food in the coldest of months. Otherwise she was as wild as a stone den cat could be, hunting and eating the small things that tended to swarm the plant den.

So it was to his surprise to find her sitting near a bulky male, watching him with wide amber eyes. Every once in a while the male would rip up a small plant and toss it behind him. A breath later Growing Thing would pounce on it with her claws out. Crooks watched this strange show as she did it again and again for seemingly no cause other than her own enjoyment.

_Growing Thing?_ he purred in that pitch humans never heard.

To his even greater shock, Growing Thing spun with a sharp hiss. Apparently he had startled the old cat. A rarity.

_Crooked one. What do you want?_

_You play with the male. This is not like you._

_I do what I want. You have no say,_ she hissed back.

_Not what I intended,_ Crooks said. 

He regarded the male before him... strong with a broad back. Tall and able to reach things up high. The boy’s pelt was dirty which was not his favorite, but humans did have a habit of cleansing themselves frequently. Not as often as cats of course but they were fairly clean animals.

_Is human nice?_ Crooks asked, swishing his tail across the dirt covered floor. He grimaced at the texture in his fur. He may occasionally prowl the forest but he was not an outdoor cat.

_Human is… gentle. One of the more tolerable ones. Why?_

_I am searching for a mate for my servant. He seems strong and… resilient._

_He is called Neville. He likes plants. This is all I know._

Crooks snarled in distaste. He wasn’t sure about the male but he was running out of options. Maybe…

“Merowww!” Crooks called. 

The male yelped, a somewhat unbecoming sound considering his size. Perhaps protection wasn’t one of his stronger suits. But he recognized this one from the den of big cats so he was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt.

“Oh!” the boy said, lowering his magic stick. Crooks waited politely while he regained his bearing. “Hello there. Sorry you startled me.”

“Merow.” 

“Did you want to play with some plants too? I have some catnip around here somewhere. Ah!” Crooks blinked at the offering the male threw to his feet. He sniffed once, feeling the fuzziness the plant always gave his mind. He purred at the tribute, a good one to be sure. 

Perhaps he had been too quick with his judgements. The boy was at least kind. Crookshanks had seen this one floating around his human before and they seemed to enjoy each other. He was at least… mild. If not aggressively defensive, he was at least gentle and quiet. Yes, he would do. (And that had nothing to do with Crookshanks getting tired of looking.)

“Merow.” Crooks padded forward quickly, tangling himself in the boy's leg. For a quarter of a second it seemed like his quest was over. Then the boy moved.

“Woah hey!” The boy scrambled back quickly. In his effort not to kick Crookshanks (which the cat did appreciate) he tripped over his own feet. The human’s arms splayed wide in an effort to stabilize himself only to fall backwards in a large crash of leaves and mud. That wouldn’t have happened if he had a tail.

“Uggh,” the boy groaned. Crooks blinked at Growing Things and padded over to the male. Clumsy was not a particularly good trait as a cat but perhaps as a human-

“No! No! Please, Fauna. Tell him to stop!”

_You don’t command me human,_ Growing Things hissed testily. 

Crookshanks did pause just short of the boy's face and blinked.

“Ah, please don’t touch me,” the boy insisted, scrambling up and away. 

Crookshanks meowed in protest and offense. He was a remarkably soft cat and was always sure to keep his coat clean. The indignity of the implication-

“I’m sorry buddy,” the male groaned, brushing off his outer pelt which was now stained with mud. “I’m sure you’re very nice. But I’m allergic. I can’t pet you.”

Crooks wasn’t sure what ‘allergic’ meant but he recognized ‘can’t pet you’ and hissed aggressively. _That_ was not a desirable trait in humans. He sent one more disdainful look at the boy before turning tail with a huff and sauntering out of the plant den. Another failure. Wonderful.

Why was finding a decent male so difficult? He pitied the human females who didn’t have a master as kind as him to do all the work for them. Well… onward he supposed.

——————————--

Crook continued his search to much failure. The place of leather and leaves resulted in nothing but being shouted at by the shrill, birdlike female. The grassy field _was_ filled with males but they were high up and whipping those balls they were so fond of around. (Crooks didn’t fancy getting hit by one.) 

He was almost desperate enough to consider the large male that lived by the edge of the forest, (He was always kind to Crookshanks and had a very warm fire.) but that cursed dog was too much to tolerate. 

It had been a long and unproductive day, leaving Crookshanks empty-pawed and his dreams of an established servant line dead in the dirt. What a shame.

He was slinking about to his tower, exhausted and defeated when he came across a familiar smelling magic. He sat and waited on a window sill for the inevitable show. Sure enough, not seven breaths later, the male called Ron came stumbling through the door with a cloud of floating paper mouths with biting teeth following him, nipping at his fur and pelt.

“Ow! What? Fred! George! How did you even- Sod off you stupid-”

Crookshanks purred in amusement as the male stumbled down the hall. This ‘Ron’ had looked to be the choice of his servant at one point but when he started sniffing around another female his servant was rightfully offended. 

They appeared to have settled their grievances, but more as littermates than a breeding pair. Much to Crookshanks’ approval. The male was hot-headed and unpredictable. Not to mention the lack of foresight a few seasons ago where he didn’t even _recognizing_ Crookshank’s work catching that rat-human pest.

“Oh, good one Forge!” 

Crookshank’s attention was drawn back to the door as two familiar males emerged, their voices rolling through the air in a stuttering purr.

“I do try my best. I think the ‘Homework ate my homework’ quill does need some slight adjustment though.” 

Crookshanks sniffed the air. He had become familiar with the ones called ‘Fred and George’ though all the humans seemed to mix them up. It was strange, Crooks thought they smelled entirely different and was unsure how the humans made such a mistake.

“Quite right. We’ll have to wait until little Ronnikins graduates for more testing.”

“Merow!” Crookshanks called, making both males jump. Fred was the one who recovered first, turning on Crooks with wide eyes.

“Crooks, my handsome mouse slayer!” he cried, holding his hand out for Crookshanks' sniff of approval. Crooks leaned into it giving him permission to pet. “Tell me you got a good look at Ron’s face as he ran by! Was it hilarious?”

“You know he can’t understand you right?” George said, leaning against the wall and offering his own hand. In spite of the male’s entirely incorrect statement, they were so good at scratching the best spots that Crookshanks was willing to forgive the insolence.

“Sure he can!” Fred responded. “This cat is something special. I would have been caught loads of time by Mrs. Noris if not for this wonderful, cunning trouble maker. Isn’t that right?”

“Merow!”

Unlike their younger littermate, these two were always kind to Crookshanks, particularly after he caught that human-rat. But while George was the sort of everyday adoration and respect Crooks had come to expect for one of his station, Fred tended to be more attentive. While he was still in the stone den, he frequently carried around treats for Crooks and would offer his laps on particularly cold days.

“You alright there Fred?” George asked, pulling away from giving Crookshanks proper esteem to face his littermate. Indeed Fred was wincing as if injured but he continued his petting nonetheless. That one had proper dedication. “You don’t need to push it.”

“I’m fine,” Fred shot testily, though his strokes were still gentle. Crookshanks purred and shifted, giving the male room to sit on the sill. The male took the spot with a sigh of relief. “Thank you Crooks. Such a generous Overlord aren’t you?”

_Why yes I am,_ Crookshanks responded happily, climbing back into the males lap. As always it was warm and stable, providing the perfect perch.

“Are you sure? Maybe we should see Madam Pomfrey while we're here. You haven’t gone to see a healer since they released you and-”

“For Merlin’s sake, George.” Fred scowled. “I’m not made of glass. It’s just the cold of the castle irritating my leg. It’s nothing.”

Crookshanks paused, blinking at the boy. It took him a moment to remember the story. Stones had fallen on the male while he defended their territory during the Great Invasion, injuring him severely. Crookshanks recalled his servant and Fred’s dam whimpering for weeks after, barely able to feed and care for him in their grief. 

The day Fred had returned to the country den there was so much noise and that high pitched wailing that Crookshanks had to retreat to the orchard and catch his dinner there. Still, that night while wandering the den, he came upon the newly-healed male in the kitchen where he poured Crooks a bowl of cream and just sat for hours petting him. At the end of the night he thanked him… like a good servant should...Hm...

Crookshanks blinked at the male above him. He was no judge of human attractiveness. As a matter of fact he wasn’t quite sure humans were any good either, often picking weaker, unhealthy partners for seemingly no reason. So he focused on the important bits. 

This one was strong, his magic was warm and excitable, yes, but also fiercely controlled. Similar to a summer storm in a bottle. While previously injured, it was in the defense of his home, still keeping his ground even after the fight. The sign of a strong defender. He was an excellent servant to Crooks and he _had_ seen his female’s eyes lingering on the male once or twice. Yes… this could work.

“Well Monsieur Shank of the Crook. We have a meeting with the Headmistress so if you could kindly release my brother?” George asked. 

Crookshanks glanced at the remaining male once more. He temporarily debated trying to take them both but inevitably rejected the idea. He didn’t want to share _too_ much of his servant’s attention.

“Merowww!” he called pitifully, leaping off the boy in an undignified stumble. He whined as he faked a limp, looking up at Fred with wide, pained eyes.

“Oh no!” Fred called, scooping him up in a gentle hold. Crooks whined dramatically, curling against the boy's chest. “You’re hurt! Did you fight off some great evil? Get your paw trapped during a daring escape? Jump from an impossible height, only to save yourself at the last possible moment?”

“Come on Fred, were going to be late.”

“Georgie. I know you aren’t asking me to abandon our comrade in his time of need.”

“You just don’t want to talk shop with the Headmistress.”

“Well, that’s why I have you isn’t in?” Fred smiled down at Crooks, scratching his chin while supporting his spine along his arm. Yes, this male was perfect! Why didn’t he think of it before? 

“Fred.”

“You don’t need me. I am the brains of this operation. You’re the face!”

“Well I am the handsome twin aren’t I?” George purred deeply. “Well, alright. Go get Granger her cat back but then come back up. I don’t know how long I can beat away McGonagall’s affections. You know how charming I can be. See you Crooks. Stay up to no good!”

Crookshanks watched the male saunter away until Fred turned, carefully holding Crooks as he walked.

“The joke, Crooks my boy, is that _I’m_ the handsome twin.”

\---------------------------

Hermione knew it was a bit pathetic that she had spent the day sulking in bed. It was made worse by the fact no one seemed to have noticed. She wasn’t prone to fits of dramatics frequently but since the war had ended, she often found herself pushed aside as her friends paired off and moved on with life. 

It wasn’t that she blamed them. She knew that at some point they would all go their separate ways and wouldn’t be _as_ close anymore. It was just that with graduation coming up they were about to grow even further apart and honestly, she missed having someone there. Harry had Ginny, her and Ron hadn’t gotten back to where they used to be after that disastrous attempt at dating… sometimes it really felt like she was all alone… well not discounting Crooks of course. Though she hadn’t seen him all day. She wondered where-

“Merowwww!”

“Alright, if you insist. But if I fall, I’m dropping you.” 

“Merowwww!”

“Okay, okay! How was I supposed to know?”

Hermione perked up at the familiar voice. Surely she must be mistaken. There was no way that-

The door to her room swung open to reveal one Fred Weasley, looking particularly adorable with a matching cat tucked into his arms. His eye widened in shock and it struck Hermione for the hundredth time how impossibly clear they were, like the summer sky. He had been thin this summer after his release from Saint Mungo’s and by the time she left for Hogwarts a week or so later he had just started to put on weight again. Now… well he certainly had regained the muscles from his beating days in his arms and shoulders. Even with the careful scratches and hold on Crooks she could see the power in his broad should-

“Why Miss Granger, I seem to have found something of yours.”

“Er… what?” She snapped out of her ogling with a blush focusing on her cat. “ Oh, thank you. Wait, how did you get up here? The stairs are charmed.”

“Not sure, the fur ball just meowed insistently until I tried. Maybe because I am no longer a student,” Fred remarked walking over to the bed and setting Crookshanks down tenderly on the pillow. He and Fred had always gotten along, which surprised her. Crookshanks didn’t like most boys and certainly not most loud noises.

“Well thank you for returning him. You didn’t have to-”

“Oh, I don’t mind,” Fred insisted, sitting heavily on the bed with a wince. “He was injured and I figured two gimpy mates need to stick together!”

“Injured?!?” Hermione gasped, reaching for her cat. Crooks was too fast though and leapt off the pillow with a quick grace that instantly discounted the thought. He meowed loudly, pinning the two with a look that could only be described as a smug, before flicking his tail and exiting the room again.

“I swear he was limping when I picked him up,” Fred laughed. “Lazy cat probably just wanted to hitch a ride back to the tower.”

“Well you know cats. They think we owe them the world.”

“Yes they do. Yours is particularly bad.” Fred turned to her and blinked, his smile dropping away. She nearly jumped out of her skin when his hand came up to rest on her cheek. It was only as she felt his thumb drag across her cheekbone that she realized what he had seen.

“You’ve been crying,” he said.

“No, I-”

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I was just-”

“Hermione,” he said chidingly. “Don’t lie to me. How long have you been up here?”

Hermione whimpered but let her face drop. He frowned and pulled her closer, tucking his arm across her shoulder and forcing her to pull away or lean into him. She chose the latter. 

“There, there, Love. What happened? You can tell me.”

“How much time do you have?” she sniffed humorlessly.

“All the time you need. Just let me…”

“It really is nothing,” she mumbled against his chest as he maneuvered them to lean against her headboard. His chest was chorded with muscle but not uncomfortable under her cheek. She made a point to avoid his still tender leg as she shifted to lay more comfortably. It was an oddly intimate pose, laying on her bed like this. 

If Pavarti or Sally-Anne walked in right now they would throw a fit. But she imagined it was difficult for him to sit straight up like that and she was terribly comfortable so right now she didn't particularly care. Could she really be blamed for enjoying the attention of such an attractive man? Even if it was platonic, it was the most action she had received all year… Merlin. Malfoy was right. She was pathetic.

“Hmm,” Fred hummed. 

Suddenly his hand was weaving through her curls to scratch at the base of her scalp. She sighed happily and slowly felt her body begin to melt, the stress of the day wearing away with each circling of his fingers.

“Just Malfoy being a prat.”

“Is that all?” Fred chuckled. “I figured you’d be used to that by now. The war may be over but he will never stop being a prick. Consequence of all the inbreeding you know.”

Hermione chuckled at that, feeling a bit lighter.

“I know. It’s just… He said some things about me and well… some of them were true, even if he was exaggerating.”

“Like what? That you’re smarter than him? That you have more friends and a kinder heart? Perish the thought.”

“No,” Hermione sighed. After a moment she nuzzled closer, lacing her arm around his back. She felt him inhale deeply but he just shifted to accommodate her. She bit her lip, wondering if she could share without sounding like she was angling for a compliment.

“He just… He’s right sometimes. My hair _is_ bushy and I _am_ a know-it-all. But I’m not a complete troll am I? I mean, it’s not all that surprising that while everyone is pairing off, I still have yet to really go on a date with anyone but surely _someone_ should have showed interest.”

“Oh, Hermione,” Fred started. “That’s not-”

“Of course it’s not important,” she added quickly, trying to keep from tearing up. “I’ve always been more concerned with school than boys. And then the war and Harry... But with this all coming to an end and seeing my friends start their lives, I can’t help but feel like I’m getting left behind. It’s stupid and emotional, I know. In a way it's nice to have normal teenage concerns instead of worry about facing death and Dark Lords come June… but in others…”

“-Death and Dark Lords were almost easier?” Fred finished for her.

“Yeah,” she said weakly, pulling him tighter against him. 

“If it helps, I like your hair and your know-it-all-ness. You're beautiful and wickedly smart at the same time. I imagine dating you would be the most rewarding challenge of a lifetime.”

Hermione was glad she was hiding in his shirt so he couldn’t see her flushed cheeks. She didn’t doubt he could feel them though. It was bad enough he had caught her eyeing him a few times through the years, winking at her jokingly before ignoring it completely. It shouldn't be fair for a boy to be that funny and smooth.

“Thanks. That’s nice to hear, even though I know you think of me as a little sister.”

The fingers in her hair stopped their circling and she felt his breath catch. For a second she thought she had said something wrong. That he was going to awkwardly excuse himself while muttering about them not being that close. 

“Who told you that?”

Mortification creeped up her spine and she blanched. With as much care for his leg as possible she pushed away from his chest, wondering why she had to open her stupid mouth. _Of course_ he didn’t see her as anything remotely that close. She had once again misread a social cue. Damn it all!

She should have known. Most of their direct interaction over the years had been as a Prefect and a rule breaker, practically enemies. He may have tolerated her and wanted to comfort her but it was probably just because he was worried that his mother would send him a howler or something if-

“Hermione?” Fred asked, resting his hand on her cheek. “What’s wrong? You look like you're overthinking something again.”

“I am not!” she snapped, unable to hide the hurt in her tone. “I just… thought we were closer than we are. Don’t mind me. My sense of relationships is skewed from the war. I’m just being stupid. Don’t worry-”

“What on earth are you talking about? You definitely aren’t stupid,” Fred said quickly. Hermione stumbled over her rant and stared fixedly at the floor. Maybe he would just leave on his own?

“And we definitely _are_ close… Er, I thought we were at least. Is this about your little sister comment?”

“Yes,” Hermione hissed, crossing her arms and turning her face away. Her cheeks burned with embarrassment and she had to keep the tears from pricking at the corner of her eyes. “I just thought we could be considered- something like friends.”

“Are we not?” he asked, his own voice rising.

“I don’t know!” Hermione exclaimed. “Are we? You’re the one who implied not.”

“What?!? No I didn't. I just… little sister isn’t exactly what I would label you.”

“Well why not?” Hermione asked. “You're protective of me. You're trying to cheer me up when I’m sad. You’re always trying to make me laugh even though I am just your little brother’s friend. What else would I be other than your little sister?”

“Stop saying that! It’s weird,” Fred shouted. “I most definitely don’t think of you as a little sister okay? I don’t sit this close with Ginny and I _definitely_ don’t think about her the same way I think about you.”

Hermione’s mouth dropped open and she blinked at him. Had he just implied…

Fred seemed to have realized what he had just blurted out and swore under his breath before falling backwards in the bed. He threw his arm across his face but she could see his bright red flush extending down his neck.

“Dear Merlin, strike me down now,” he muttered.

“Fred?” Hermione asked shakily. “W-what do you mean?”

“I didn’t… this isn’t how I… fuck,” he groaned. “Just let me die of embarrassment alone please.”

“No,” Hermione insisted, wringing her hands to keep from reaching out. “You’d start to stink after a few days and I sleep here.”

That got a smile out of him and he peeked out from under his arm. His cheeks were still flushed and he saw her watching him for only a moment before he ducked back under cover.

“I cannot believe I said that.”

“Did you not mean it?” Hermione probed. She held back the disappointment at the thought.

“I… no I did. I was just… it’s so close to your NEWTs and I didn’t want to stress you out with something you probably didn’t even care about. I was going to wait until after you graduated to see if you wanted to grab dinner or something as friends and… well…”

“Hope I stumbled backward, suddenly, and madly in love with you?” Hermione asked teasingly as she poked his chest.

“Something like that,” Fred sat up smiling weakly, noticeably keeping his hands to himself this time. “I understand if you don’t feel the same way. Or if you just don’t have time to deal with this right now. It’s your first year to be a normal witch and I’m sure you want to play the field a bit, even if the idiot boys of Hogwarts can’t see what a catch they have in front of them.”

“Fred…” she trailed off. Her hand hovered awkwardly in the air, unsure of where it should go.

“Don’t, it’s fine,” he responded, angling to stand with a grimace. “Don’t worry. I won’t be weird about it or anything. I wasn’t going to say anything. You were just upset and… well I thought it would help for some reason. Clearly not. In any event, I’ll just-”

Hermione’s heart skipped at the thought of him leaving. Before she could second guess herself or he could stand she threw her arms around his neck, the both of them falling back against the headboard with a thunk.

“Ow,” Fred hissed. Hermione blushed, even with her face inches from his. Did she always have to be so awkward?

“That- I’m sorry. That usually works better in movies,” Hermione murmured, immediately moving to climb off him. What had she been thinking?!?

“Ah ah, Granger,” Fred smiled, draping his hand around her back and holding her in place. “You can’t just start a scene and end it part of the way through. 

“Oh?” she asked, her eyebrow raising.

“Yeah, what do the muggles say? You’ve got to play it out?” 

“That’s about baseball,” Hermione giggled, even when Fred rolled his eyes.

“I don’t know what that is but I am pretty sure the sentiment is the same.” Fred smiled up at her. “So?”

“So.” Hermione breathed softly, leaning in. 

Fred didn't make it easy for her. He didn’t move a single inch and every millisecond lasted an age. There was a small moment of terror where she thought for sure he would pull away, laughing about some sort of prank and how he would never be interested in a rule-abiding swot like her. But he didn’t, and when her lips finally met his it was as natural as breathing.

His lips were soft and comforting, sparking a joy she hadn't quite felt in her other kissing experiences. It was somewhat dizzying the way he molded against her, his hand tracing down her spine. By the time they broke away Hermione was panting and her brain had gone a bit fuzzy, like she had drank too many butterbeers.

“Remind me that I owe your cat some treats later,” Fred growled.

“Hm?” Hermione responded distractedly, running her hand through his hair. “Later?”

“Oh yes,” Fred smiled mischievously. “I’m nowhere _near_ done with you.”

Hermione gasped as he pulled her forward, stealing any semblance of thought or reason from her mind. All there was, was Fred and his body against hers. Along with the subtle agreement that yes, Crookshanks did deserve an extra treat later… Much later.

  
  
  



End file.
